When my husband and I were falling in love and committing ourselves to coupledom, I said to him, in all seriousness, “I want decades with you.” That was more than four years ago, when he was 55, and I was 53. It felt like a tall order; his mother died at 62, my father at 47. Then there was the fact that I’d had “a mild case of cancer,” undergoing surgery and radioactive iodine treatment for thyroid cancer. At the time of our courtship, however, I was in fine health, and so was John. (As of this writing we still are, knock wood.) This being the case, I am as hopeful for our future now as I was when we were betrothed. (Great word, isn’t it?) I’m reminded of Emily Dickinson’s great poetic line: “Hope is the thing with feathers.” My husband and I have been flying together for half a decade. I want to soar many more miles with him.

John turns 60 on Thursday, February 13. There’s something about crossing the threshold into a new decade that gives one pause; mid-lifers especially, I think, tend toward reflection here, especially if they’re in a second relationship. We have fewer mile markers in front of us, and we know that one of them will be fateful. All John or I can do is live each day with love—as if every day is Valentine’s Day, as, indeed, it will be the morning after his birthday.

Besides hosting Valentine’s Day, the 14th is a significant date for us because we met on the 14th of June. For that reason, when we decided to marry, we chose August 14 as our wedding day. The middle of February is, you might say, a peak time on our calendar, what with his birthday, V-Day, and, this year, our 56-month anniversary. But this doesn’t necessarily mean it’s black-tie-and-gown party time. Last year, for example, movers in Richmond were loading a truck with our belongings. This year, as I write this, I’m still in a leg cast.

As Connie Schultz says, life happens. John and I might not be able to go out and paint the town Cupid red, but by spreading out the significance of our love over 365 days—that is, by not taking one another for granted—each day feels more valuable, more treasured. Being mindful of our love each day helps us stack the deck. We might have only half a decade on our scorecard, but if we care for each other, are kind to each other, and express our love in ways minuscule as well as magnificent—every single day—it will seem as though we really are getting more decades than the calendar suggests. Some might call this magical thinking. I call it hoping, with feathers.

Marci, this is really a beautiful testament of your love. I can only hope that one day I can find that guy again to share each and every day with. God bless you both as you enjoy your journey together.

Marci, it seems as if you and I do a mind connection thing with more frequency than can be explained in black and white. Your beautiful words of love shine with awareness of what really matters in life. Love and honesty matter. More than that, they are core essential.
You also demonstrate so well that “love found in later life” can be more meaningful, more beautiful, more soul-connecting, than any previous love. It is worth waiting for, worth searching for, and worth any bit of effort or action required to ensure it is valued and is long-lasting. We know well, in these years of midlife and beyond, that there is no more endless time. Our duty, for this gift, is to nurture and appreciate it in every way possible, for whatever amount of time that is left to us. As you are doing.

You said it beautifully here, “…but if we care for each other, are kind to each other, and express our love in ways minuscule as well as magnificent—every single day—it will seem as though we really are getting more decades than the calendar suggests…”

Your words are so eloquent. So true. So nice to be able to say and believe, right?

Wow. Julie, I’m absolutely amazed by your beautiful comment. It has literally left me without words. Thank you. I’m happy to know that what I wrote resonated with you. Golly. And yes, it is “nice to be able to say and believe!”

Oh golly Marci, I so appreciate you and the way you write and think.
As a note, I really wish I could edit my post to correct where the “s” is. Here: More than that, they ares core essential. The word “are” does not need the “s”. The word “essential” does! Will you please fix that for me. I am embarrassed to the degree that I must ask you.
Other than that, I have already shared your words with many people.
They will resonate in so many ways with so many people.
Happy life!

I think I’ve got it fixed. (The word “essential” already had the requisite two “esses”!) Please check and let me know if any other edits are needed. I’m happy to do it. Thank you for sharing the post…I appreciate that so much! Happy life to you, too!

Happy Birthday to your husband and happy anniversary to you both! Even after 37 years with the same guy it isn’t so much about the length as the depth. Wishing you the same for years, and years to come!

I love this post. Love is great whenever it happens and I would assume (hope) just a little more precious a bit older : ) To many more years and decades!
I loved my 20’s and 30’s but hell if I knew what I was doing. Was just along for the ride and it was my life!
Now I’m in charge and once I get over this lung thing plan on kicking ass. And why now that I know I can actually use the inhaler instead of staring at it….

Thanks so much for stopping by the blog, Pia, and for taking a moment to share your thoughts. There’s a great quote from the classic film “It’s a Wonderful Life”–I’m sure you know it: “youth is wasted on the young.” If only we had the wisdom of age to go with the vitality of our youth! Ah well….take care and hope you feel better soon.